


Benefits Of Friendship

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 10:40:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre returns home from a trip to the States to find a welcome party awaiting him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Benefits Of Friendship

Combeferre yawned as he walked home, feeling the uncomfortable chill of the wind harsh on his face and his neck where it managed to bite under his scarf. It was early morning yet, and even later on when the sun was out he doubted it would truly be any warmer, but he wouldn’t have to care - by then, he was comfortably certain, he would be firmly ensconced in his own bed, under a nice three or four blankets, and he would sleep.

The flight back from New York had been  _exhausting_ , as the plane had had not one, not two, but  _five_  separate infants on it, and whilst one of them had been the most peaceful child Combeferre had ever laid eyes upon, the other four had screamed almost continuously.

He was clumsy in unlocking the door to his and Enjolras’ apartment, struggling to find the keyhole, but he managed it and then opened the door, stepping inside and relishing the warmth that hit him immediately. 

At seven AM, Enjolras would usually be up, even on a Saturday, but Combeferre received no greeting as he entered the hall, and so he was quiet in closing the door behind him. He stepped into the living room, yawning again, and then stopped, setting his case aside and sliding its handle away.

"Oh." He murmured to himself, looking around the room with an expression of fond surprise. Enjolras was asleep on the sofa, his face pressed against the armrest and his arm draped down, but rather than being on the floor as usual, his hand rested on Courfeyrac’s chest, for Courfeyrac was sleeping on the floor on his back, a pillow over his head and a blanket half-heartedly draped over his feet.

Lying on his ankles was Marius, his arms wrapped around Courfeyrac’s calves as he let out snuffling little snores, curled close to him. In the armchair, Joly and Jean Prouvaire had both climbed atop Bossuet and were pressed to his shoulder on each side, and at their was Feuilly, back against the chair and head dropped to Bossuet’s knee.

Bahorel was cross-legged on the ground, and next to him was Grantaire, who clutched a pillow in his arms. The light was on, and the TV flickered despite being on mute. Combeferre turned the latter off, saying not too loudly, “Hello?”

Feuilly jerked awake immediately, ever the light sleeper, and he regarded Combeferre blearily. “Oh.  _Oh_. You’re home, and we’re- we’re asleep-” Feuilly pushed at Bossuet’s knee, shaking him awake, and slowly, with Feuilly coaxing them awake, all the  _amis_  opened their eyes and regarded Combeferre.

"Welcome home!" Marius said earnestly, rubbing at his eyes to rid them of sleep. "It was Grantaire’s idea-"

"It wasn’t." The drunkard lied in an irritably sleepy tone.

"And we thought we’d all wait for you! But then, uh, we fell asleep." He said awkwardly. Enjolras pulled himself up, and wrapped his arms firmly around his best friend, pressing his cheek to Combeferre’s chest and tightly holding him around the middle.

"You were later than we thought." He mumbled in a soft voice, and Combeferre patted his back, gentle.

"Thank you all, for coming. But I was only away for two weeks, really, this wasn’t necessary."

"Ah, but it’s nice though, isn’t it?" Joly said, offering a bright, chipper smile and looking far more awake than he had any right to. 

"Very nice indeed." Combeferre nodded, gently easing Enjolras off him to drop him into Courfeyrac’s amused grasp. Courfeyrac ruffled the blond’s hair, and it served to wake him up a bit, if only to spit at him.

"How was your conference?" Prouvaire asked, sounding no more or less dreamy than he ever did, tone positively serene.

"It was good. Tiring, but good, yes." Combeferre murmured, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand in a sheepish fashion. "You really needn’t have done this, honestly-"

"We missed you, man. You’re pack mom, you know?" Courfeyrac said, and then he put his hand on the back of Combeferre’s neck, pulling him down to press two firm kisses to each of his cheeks. "Now go to bed." Courfeyrac patted Combeferre’s cheek as he half-cradled Enjolras, who had drooped again from lack of sleep (Enjolras was not fantastic without at least six hours).

All of them murmured the same things, Bahorel offering a lazy smile, Prouvaire beaming at him, and the others all grinning. Combeferre trailed back to his room and dropped into bed, throwing his clothes across the room without bothering to stand to take them off, and then dropped under the covers, pulling them over his head.

He was asleep within a few minutes, grinning a little at the thought that they’d all come to greet him. His smile clung to his lips even as he drifted off, and when he woke in the evening, it was with a cheerful countenance and a lingering contentedness.


End file.
